


Magical Mishaps Means... Mates? Cool

by dottie_wan_kenobi



Series: sterek fics [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Magical Accidents, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Omega Stiles Stilinski, POV Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates, Sterek Secret Santa, Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Live, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi
Summary: “You see,” Stiles starts, deliberately softening his voice. “I’m going to go into heat soon. And in case you forgot, since I’m an adult now, I have to start taking a different kind of suppressants. But first, I’m being forced to go through a heat cycle. Which is going to be horrible, unless I find my mate. And that’s what this spell is for. Finding mates.”“You’re using a spell to—that’s wrong, Stiles. You’re not supposed to cheat the system that way.” And—goal achieved—Derek looks uncomfortable, like he usually does when someone offends his delicate, traditional born-werewolfy sensibilities. It happens less often than Stiles would honestly expect.“It’s not like I’m going to just say, ‘hey, magic, find my mate’! I’m—”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: sterek fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510661
Comments: 11
Kudos: 664
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2019





	Magical Mishaps Means... Mates? Cool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theatrexbreed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatrexbreed/gifts).



> Happy holidays @theatrexbreed!!! Hope you like this <3
> 
> Thanks to my amazing beta [whateverrrrwhatever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverrrrwhatever) who helped make this way better than it could be
> 
> Also I'm probably going to come back after the New Year to make some small edits (I'm super busy rn :/) but it is finished as is, and I hope you all enjoy!!

“Don’t talk to me,” Stiles says, and maybe he sounds a little harsher than he really means to. But like, he’s stressed out, more so than he has been in a while—when did three days since his last near-death experience become normal?—and he can’t help coming off like a dick. “I need total and complete silence for this spell to work.”

Derek rolls his eyes. Well, probably. Stiles isn’t exactly looking to be sure, but there’s a good chance, knowing him. “I wasn’t even talking.”

Stiles keeps adjusting the set up arrayed on the floor around him, aware that he needs to get it just right. Otherwise, everything’s going to go to shit, again, and the potential side effects of this particular spell are excruciating and horrible. One of the most common ones, even when everything goes according to plan, is tinnitus. Shudder.

“Good,” he says to Derek, who’s sitting on the shitty couch on the other side of the living room. The Hale House used to scare Stiles, but he’s gotten used to how cold and freaky it is over the past few years. They spend so much time here nowadays, doing this or that pack-related thing, that it almost feels like a home away from home. A very charred, uncomfortably damp and depressing home, but whatever. “Continue doing that. Continue being silent and creepily watching me like the stalker we all know you are.”

This is a well-worn conversation between the two of them. Derek huffs and sets his book down roughly in his lap, launching into his familiar defense. “I was going through a phase in my life that—”

“What about silence do you not get, Sourwolf?” Stiles cries out, biting his lip to hold in his grin. It’s always fun to mess around with the alpha, even if it is cutting into his concentration. “I need quiet. More specifically, I need  _ you  _ to be quiet. Since you are the only one here.”

Derek’s silence is oppressively loud.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t trust me out here alone! You could be out with the puppies right now. Boyd said they were going out for ice cream. You could be chowing down on some ice cream right now, you know. But nooooo, instead you’re here, pretending to read some book—”

“ _ Little Women _ is not just some book—”

“Oh, excuse me! You’re pretending to read  _ Little Women _ , while actually watching my every move like a creepy stalker. Also, I totally caught that you didn’t deny pretending, by the way. Even if I fuck up spectacularly, it’s not like this spell is going to hurt anybody.” No, it can really only fuck him up in uncomfortable but probably not life-threatening ways. But it’s more fun to tease Derek than just tell him that. “Not more than it already is, I mean.”

“You didn’t bother to tell me what the spell was for, so of course I’m concerned about it! It could be anything, it could be some stupid bullshit like the one you did a few weeks ago, it could—”

Stiles inhales—and trust him when he says it’s only out of stress—and gets a strong whiff of protective alpha pheromones. He whips around, a little outraged. (More than a little, really. Maybe a lot. Whatever.) He has to catch himself on the floor with a hand, but in the moment he’s not at all concerned about where it lands. Or rather, what it lands on. “Seriously, Derek? You’re not actually worried about me or the puppies, are you. You’re just such an alpha you can’t stand to let an omega do anything by themselves, huh?”

Derek lets out an irritated little growl, standing up and leaving his book on the cushion next to him. Stiles doesn’t feel threatened at all, just even more annoyed than before. He thinks he can try and intimidate Stiles? Yeah right. Stiles juts his chin out and tries his damnedest to send out hostile omega pheromones. It works—Derek’s nose scrunches up, and this time, it’s not as adorable as it usually is. Well, okay, maybe it is a little bit, but also not because Stiles is  _ pissed _ .

“What is the spell for, Stiles?”

Oh, is this how he’s going to play it? Just ignore the problem of his assholery like it might go away? Stiles rolls his eyes, and even though he hadn’t wanted Derek to find out, he figures he can make the older guy uncomfortable with the truth. 

“You see,” Stiles starts, deliberately softening his voice. “I’m going to go into heat soon. And in case you forgot, since I’m an adult now, I have to start taking a different kind of suppressants. But first, I’m being forced to go through a heat cycle. Which is going to be horrible, unless I find my mate. And that’s what this spell is for. Finding mates.”

“You’re using a spell to—that’s wrong, Stiles. You’re not supposed to cheat the system that way.” And—goal achieved—Derek looks uncomfortable, like he usually does when someone offends his delicate, traditional born-werewolfy sensibilities. It happens less often than Stiles would honestly expect.

“It’s not like I’m going to just say, ‘hey, magic, find my mate’! I’m—”

Stiles cuts off with a hiss, jerking his hand, which starts to burn as soon as the words are out of his mouth, off the ground. Without it there to hold him steady, he tumbles a little, down onto his butt. Really, though, he’s more concerned about his hand than a sore tail bone.

“Ow!” 

Suddenly Derek’s teeth pull back, revealing elongated incisors. He, too, holds his hand gingerly in front of him, even though it’s not like whatever just burned Stiles could’ve burnt him all the way over on the other side of the room. “What the hell was that, Stiles?” He spits out, managing to sound pissed off even with his teeth (adorably) muffling his words.

“I—it must’ve been the spell,” Stiles says, blinking down at the set up. He can see exactly where his hand was, the imprint of his fingers clear as day on the charred floorboards. Freaking great, he thinks, getting to his knees. He has no idea what to expect now—all the side effects he read about were from screwing up the placement of the objects, not… this. He didn’t have a chance to adjust the tree branch to the exact right position, and the red dirt wasn’t laid out yet. Some of the ingredients that weren’t supposed to get on the floor got knocked over, the grains of salt spilling all over the charred wood and his hand. 

“Stiles?”

How is he supposed to handle this? He tries to prepare for every possible outcome, for every fuck up, but how can he prepare for unknown side effects that could, for all he’s aware, last approximately forever?

“Stiles!”

Is he about to get tinnitus, or worse, labyrinthitis forever? God, what the hell was he thinking? Edging into frantic, he riffles through his pockets, finding the folded up paper he’s looking for but managing to get a stupid paper cut in the process. As he opens up the paper, he sucks on the wound absentmindedly, knowing it won’t actually help his healing. It comforts him, at least.

“Stiles!”

“I’m trying to read, Derek, god, shut up for a second!”

It’s a list of all the ways the spell can possibly go wrong, and the corresponding side effects. When he first found it and printed it out, he told himself to ignore the fact that these are just the known ones, that there could be more that nobody has even discovered yet. But now? It’s hard to focus on anything but that. Scanning the list again, all he can think about is how he has no clue what’s about to happen to him, and tinnitus is the least of his problems.

And okay, maybe he’s hyperventilating a little bit.

Stiles doesn’t bother hiding his whimper of distress. Distress over the spell, and a general kind of upset, because this was like his one and only chance to find his mate—and okay that’s not true at all, whatever!—and now it’s ruined. He’s going to have to go through his heat by himself, and suffer through all of it by himself. Fuck.

He’s distracted from this train of thought and the list in his hands by the most amazing scent he’s ever smelled: a mix of things he can’t quite identify but are together irresistible, giving him the urge to calm down, close his eyes and try and suck as much of it in as possible. It surrounds him and soon, it’s joined by a warm arm which curls around his shoulders and tugs him close to an equally warm chest.

A little embarrassed, a little annoyed, Stiles fights his instincts to just burrow into Derek’s embrace. He pulls away, flushed. “Dude,” he says, trying to sound angry. “Stop it with the freaking alpha pheromones, seriously. I’m fine.”

“Sorry,” Derek says, clearly flustered. He backs away then—like several feet away—still hovering awkwardly. 

Weirdly hurt, Stiles scoffs. “Better, but dude, it’s not like I have cooties or something.”

Derek doesn’t reply. He’s too busy sniffing the air now, too, his fangs still out, his eyes bleeding red. Stiles watches as he shifts, scenting the air all the while. Even after seeing Derek shift at least a million times over the past few years, it’s still fascinating. And kind of hot, if he’s honest. Okay, like really hot. In a weird way.

“Are—are you okay?” He shakes it off, because Derek’s still ignoring him and scenting the air, which is not like him at all. “The spell might’ve done something to you. I mean, you were in close proximity and I think there are a few side effects that mention something like… oh shit, you totally got hit, didn’t you?” He doesn’t wait for Derek to react before he’s going back to the paper. Atonia, tardive dyskinesia, hematemesis… and those are the best case scenarios. God, Derek’s going to kill him.

“Stiles, you—you smell so—”

“I know,” he says, more than a little shrill. He doesn’t know how he smells, though, not really, not to Derek. Suddenly, he’s positive he can’t handle hearing whatever Derek was going to say, even if he can guess. “I know, okay, I’m aware I’m pumping out distress signals, I don’t need you to tell me tha—wait.” 

Stiles sniffs, catching Derek’s scent again. It’s strong—it’s always been strong, but it feels like more now, whatever that means—and just like he did a few moments earlier, he smells  _ wonderful _ . Better than anything Stiles has ever scented before. By, like, ten thousand percent.

He knows what this means.

Soulmates can only be found, usually, the natural way—people can only meet their soulmates when all parties involved are ready. When there’s no chance of them having totally different, non-negotiable future plans, or at a time when one is still a raging douchebag and the other is so put off, it ruins their chances forever. Once they’re all ready, though, receptors in the brain flip on like a switch. Suddenly, whoever they are, their scent becomes way more potent, heightened. It’s supposed to be the best combination of pheromones to appeal directly to their mate.

And see… Stiles has kind of always wanted Derek to be his. Okay, obviously for a long time there, he held out hope for Lydia, and maybe for a little bit—more than a little bit, really— Danny. But ever since that fateful day that Stiles met Derek, there’s been this inkling, this hope that they could be it for each other.

With that in mind, the list in his hands, and his eyes losing focus as he gets lost in his thoughts, Stiles says, “The spell fake mated us, didn’t it?”

Derek stops dead. (Oh, yikes, maybe not the best phrase to use considering where they are.) Clearly confused, he asks, “What?”

“I bet it like, read my mind or something, it knew who I wanted the answer to be, and since I fucked it up, it fake mated us.”

“Fake mating isn’t a thing,” Derek replies, but he looks deflated. His nose is twitching and he’s obviously breathing in through his mouth. For some reason, the thought that he’s not taking in Stiles’ scent anymore hurts. 

“It could be,” Stiles points out, pushing his dumb feelings down. “And let’s be real, okay, if it’s a thing, it’s definitely happening to me. That’s like a law of the universe. If something shitty could possibly happen, it will. To me. Specifically. You got dragged along for the ride this time, and that sucks—”

Derek ignores him, sidling away again. “Calm down. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not! Look, this says there can be unknown consequences to fucking up the spell, and fake mating is definitely something I’d—hey!”

Stiles gets another paper cut as Derek yanks the paper away from him, slowly reading through the heaps of information Stiles crammed on it. Aware Derek’s attention won’t be broken out of sheer will and assholery right now—unless there’s suddenly a threat around, that is—Stiles sighs and flops onto his back. God, Derek still smells so good, it makes him want to go over there and just cover himself in Derek until their scents are forever entwined. Which can only really happen as a result of some serious cuddling or sexytimes, and Stiles is not adverse to—

Okay, holy shit, this fake mating is potent. Effective. Impressive. Hard-hitting. Very hard hitting. Hoo boy.

“Ugh!” Stiles breathes in deeply through his mouth, forcing himself to stop creeping on his friend. His alpha, but in the werewolf-y sense, not the mate-y sense. Except that right now, it feels like he’s both. And Stiles has always—for a given definition of always, at least, for a long, long time—wanted that to be the case.

His mind is jumping all over the map; he can’t focus on anything other than Derek, and that’s really the last thing he needs right now. Did he take his Adderall today? Wait, no, he didn’t. Adderall and magical spells don’t mix super well, evidently. He definitely learned that the hard way.

“Stiles,” Derek says what feels like several hours later, even though it’s probably just a few minutes. Even trying not to smell him, Stiles can tell he’s started pumping out some seriously content alpha pheromones. “You didn’t read the whole page, did you?”

Deflecting, Stiles goes for playground insults, their mutual tried and true method. “You sound so happy. It’s creepy.”

“Shut up. Look, it says right here that the creator of the spell took steps to make sure it would never match up the caster with the wrong mate. And… and you said earlier that it read your mind. That you wanted me to be your mate.”

Stiles freezes, caught out. “Heh, I did say that, didn’t I? But it doesn’t matter, because remember? Law of the universe, dude. It’s never happened before, but now that I’ve—”

Suddenly, Derek is there, leaning over Stiles. He isn’t touching him or boxing him in, isn’t even all that close in the grand scheme of things, but. He’s filling Stiles’ vision and he’s wide-eyed and there’s a small smile on his mouth and shit, he smells so damn good. So enticing. Stiles futilely attempts to hold onto some self control, fingers curling into his palms so he doesn’t reach out to him

“Shut up,” Derek says again.

Stiles starts to protest, playing offended just on principle, but then… then Derek moves a little closer. Their breath mingles, and Stiles can’t look away from Derek’s mouth. It’s so  _ close _ .

“Stiles. We weren’t mated because of the spell messing up. We—I think—I think we’re just mates. Real mates.” Derek’s eyes never leave his, and it’s so intense Stiles wants to squirm but he can’t look away.

He shakes off the feeling, and tries again. “Derek, I’m telling you—”

“I want you to be mine, too,” Derek says, and Stiles is stunned into silence. “I thought maybe you were and you just weren’t ready yet, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. And now…” he breathes in deeply, nose twitching, letting the thought drop. 

“Now we’re—we could—” Distracted by Derek’s own scent, Stiles’ eyes fall to Derek’s mouth. “It could be real?”

“Yeah,” and now Derek brings an arm up, laying it beside Stiles’ head. It’s hard to remember all the freaking out he’d been doing just a few moments before. Does it even matter anymore, when Derek might be right? When they might actually be mates for real? 

Hands coming up to Derek’s chest, Stiles grabs his lapels and tugs the alpha down.

Their lips meet kind of roughly, and okay, it’s not a perfect first kiss. But it is kind of amazingly perfect for them, exactly what he wants and needs with Derek. It feels right, like destiny, like something in his soul slides into place, which is bullshit that he usually doesn’t subscribe to but whatever. As it turns out, it’s totally true. 

Of course, the bliss can only last so long—without warning, the front door bangs open, the hinges loudly protesting, and Erica and Boyd’s voices fill up the room. Erica starts hooting and hollering the second she sees them. Boyd can’t stop laughing. Dicks.

Stiles’ head bumps back on the floor as he and Derek pull apart. “Hey, alpha? Go make your puppies fuck off so we can make out in peace.”

Derek heaves a sigh, but he’s actually smiling. Happy is a ridiculously good look on him. He presses a kiss to Stiles’ forehead and gets up, and Stiles pretends he doesn’t feel bereft and lonely immediately.

Holy shit, he’s mated. Well, not totally, not  _ yet _ , but whatever. Close enough.

Flinging an arm over his eyes and just listening as the betas begin to roast the shit out of them both—god,  _ really  _ bad wording!—he’s just glad that at least this one time, something went wrong… but it ended up in his favor.

**Author's Note:**

> Tinnitus: noise or ringing in ears  
> Labyrinthitis: the inflammation of the inner ear. It results in a sensation of the world spinning and also possible hearing loss or ringing in the ears  
> Atonia: a deficiency of usual or expected tone in the muscles  
> Tardive Dyskinesia: a disorder that results in involuntary, repetitive body movements  
> Hematemesis: vomiting of blood


End file.
